Parkmont Poetry Festival Poems - 2009 - Parkmont School

31
parkmont poetry festival Poems by District of Columbia Students Grades 6-12 SPONSORED BY PARKMONT SCHOOL, MAY 9, 2009

Transcript of Parkmont Poetry Festival Poems - 2009 - Parkmont School

Page 1: Parkmont Poetry Festival Poems - 2009 - Parkmont School

9251.100hML5.1.9

parkmont poetry festivalPoems by District of Columbia Students

Grades 6-12

SPONSORED BY PARKMONT SCHOOL, MAY 9, 2009

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PREFACE

We are pleased to share with you in this booklet the poems of Washington, DC’s young writers. The Parkmont Poetry

Festival was founded in 1982 to recognize the literary gifts of young poets from our diverse schools and neighborhoods and to celebrate their common interest in poetry.

We received several hundreds of poems for this year’s Festival from students in grades 6 through 12 in the District’s public, private, and charter schools. Our judges have selected these 40 distinguished poems from the chorus of young voices expressing

their spirits and vitality through poetry.

ParkmOnT POeTry FesTival, mAy 10, 2008 i

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2009 POETRy AWARD WINNERSDavon Ford Get Your Elbow Off the Table ................................................ 1Julia Hiemstra Food ............................................................................... 2lamara Brooks My Name ...................................................................... 3Jennifer Omekam The Inside .................................................................. 4Devon Hudson Photo .............................................................................. 5noelle smith Running to Freedom .......................................................... 6Cheryl arnold Hurry! ............................................................................ 8khadijah rashad The Day That You Are Going to Have.......................... 9mia Jones Colors ................................................................................... 10Bernice Caldwell I Be ........................................................................ 12kameren morgan Free in Ruined Eternities (FIRE) .............................. 13Darvel suggs My Winter Experience ...................................................... 14aaron landy Murderers’ Row ............................................................... 15kweku sumbry Darkness ..................................................................... 16ava reuss Ladybug .............................................................................. 17shawntay kent Poetic Autobiography ................................................... 18melissa Q. Wood Today ....................................................................... 19kirk murphy From One to Another ........................................................ 20Christian Burke Upside Down .............................................................. 21khalil Jones Random ............................................................................ 22nichell kee Happy New Year ................................................................ 23antonia madian Lost ............................................................................ 24Dasha Bell Flower Poem About Pink ...................................................... 25sequan Wilson Unforgettable ............................................................... 26monae smith I am ................................................................................ 27Colin Clarke Confusion Within .............................................................. 28Damon kee I Am Not For School ......................................................... 30Gabriela Farina Swimming in the Rain ................................................. 31Jonathan korns The Green House ......................................................... 32lesa lee Lemon Yellow Passion Flower .................................................. 34renita Williams The Time Is Right to Make ......................................... 35Duncan Taylor Merry-Go-Round .......................................................... 36kiana murphy Sleeveless Imagination .................................................. 37Jeremiah Quarles The Rubberband on my Wrist ................................... 39Olivia Patch Autumn............................................................................ 40marcus Barnes His son ......................................................................... 41David Heath Revelation ........................................................................ 42sebastian swain To Reciprocate Love .................................................. 43steven reed The True Definition of a Man ............................................. 46Cole Feinberg Anatomy and Music ........................................................ 47

ParkmOnT POeTry FesTival, mAy 9, 2009 iii

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ParkmOnT POeTry FesTival, mAy 9, 2009 1

GET yOUR ELBOW OFF THE TABLE

i was raised by get your elbow

off the table, don’t never say you’re

not able, get dat money real faithful

type of family.

always on my back, never let me

slack, they always stay packed

Do anything for me, love me to the

max type family.

Get your butt in this house

for i tear you up. always

drinking out the juice cup

type family.

Tore up off the goose

put a lil cranberry into it

give it a boost, come over

here and give Grandma a

smooch type family.

Hand me the remote right

here beside me, move out of

the way of the Tv i can’t see

type family.

Come here boy, then smack

me in my head, i know you

ain’t wet your bed, even though

i did, i’d tell her it’s water instead

type family.

you better do your homework

beat with the belt had me crying

like water type family.

Davon Ford, Grade 8 Charles Hart Middle School

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ParkmOnT POeTry FesTival, mAy 9, 20092 ParkmOnT POeTry FesTival, mAy 9, 2009 3

my NAmE

in the morning, my name feels deadly

in the afternoon, my name feels real

Outside, my name feels loud

at the end of school, my name feels happy

The next day, my name feels good

Going to school, my name feels magic.

When my friends call me,

when i write my name,

it feels secret.

my name feels funny

when i make my friends laugh.

my name feels like music

When people say it.

Lamara Brooks, Grade 6 Charles Hart Middle School

FOOD

a piece of limp, faded, yellow-colored pasta, like an old

person’s hair.

an oval-shaped, bright orange, delicious mango, like a nerf

football.

a chunk of strong bittersweet-smelling, whitish-brown garlic,

like a brand-new book waiting to be read, page to page.

a sheet of fresh, creme-colored fillo dough, like a sheet of

paper, blank and unused.

a triangular piece of dough-covered cherry pie, like a balloon

waiting to be popped.

Julia Hiemstra, Grade 6Horace Mann Elementary School

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PHOTO

Picture you in the background

and me in the front

eyes older than a wooden table

Face looks like a tinted mask

Devon Hudson, Grade 8 Charles Hart Middle School

THE INSIDE

Who are you looking at? are you staring at me? Don’t you

have somewhere else to be? Do not stare too long or you will

see what is really inside of me. all the pain regret and sorrow

that is bottled up inside. all my feelings are ready to burst

out. if i do not say something soon someone’s feelings will

be hurt. i have feelings but still i do not pout. i might scream

and shout but that only means you better get out. Wham!

Watch out because here i come with my independent self the

only thing wrong is that you are already there.

Jennifer Omekam, Grade 6Howard University Middle School of Mathematics and Science

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running left and

no say in what we want.

running right

as if we have no voice to speak.

a young mother wanting a way out.

Working in the house, helping with the kids,

cooking and cleaning.

The young mother views the white children

receiving their education.

Wishing that her daughter could do the same.

running left and running right.

every time the mother looks into the child’s eyes,

she can see the pain and confusion in the child’s soul.

The mother makes a decision to head north,

but only makes it halfway from hell.

Grabbed by a rope, bags thrown over the child and the

mother’s body

as if trying to round up cattle.

instead of even going back home, she and her daughter

are carried to an unfamiliar town.RUNNING

Noelle Smith, Grade 8 Parkmont School

RUNNING TO FREEDOm

Through the night.

sounds of men chattering, running of feet,

and hounds howling.

so much darkness as if it was swallowing the night.

running left and right.

The only light coming from stars and lamps of racist men.

Trying to make it north as quickly as possible.

Hoping for a new life filled with upcoming changes.

Will it be possible or will we just be rallied

like animals beaten and forced to work?

Working in the house or in the field,

still not able to learn or read.

Beaten all alike, whether dark or light.

running left and running right.

raped, abused, or neglected.

The lost touch of a family bond.

People being sold as if livestock.

The screams of stomachs begging for food

or hearts singing for freedom.

Wondering when the day will come when we all rise.

They try to put fear in us so we can’t run away

or brainwash us as if there is no other way.

running left and running right.

Only to be stopped by a group of white men

who dragged us back to their destination.

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THE DAy THAT yOU ARE GOING TO HAVE

Forget the pool

Forget the wind

and don’t forget

To pay your rent

it’s a holiday, have

some joy, forget

about the squeak

Just picture food

inside your head

Don’t forget to

toss the salad

Don’t forget about

Pie crust, just

Picture the moon

light and enjoy

the bread and picture

the plate you’re

Going to have

Khadijah Rashad, Grade 6Charles Hart Middle School

HURRy!

Hurry!

Wake up,

Get dressed,

Hurry you’ll be late.

Hurrying is something

i absolutely hate.

Find your hat,

Brush the cat,

Don’t drag your feet

you’ve got to hurry.

Hurry scurry Worry Flurry.

Hurrying is something

i absolutely hate.

Cheryl Arnold, Grade 6 Horace Mann Elementary School

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i’m going

Colors

Where would i be without

Colors

mothers fathers sisters brothers

all four of my favorite

Colors

Mia Jones, Grade 8Meridian Public Charter School

COLORS

Colors

Colors that flow

Colors

Don’t you know how they grow?

Through the vines in between

The lines

Flowing like water, sea’s

Oceans

Flowers that grow for

Hours

some are sweet some

smell sour

Their smell elevates through

The wind

again and

again

Colors Brighten up your day

Colors

Free to come

Free to stay

i say hey hey

How

They look

BeaUTiFUl

How they brighten up the pathway

so i can

see the way

The way

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FREE IN RUINED ETERNITIES (FIRE)

kid with the tears like waterfalls,

free on an autumn’s day.

Free to do whatever he wants,

free to roam and play.

He hides his anger,

under that happy face.

But still feels pain,

from that terrible day.

The fire burns.

as a baby,

he never saw his parents.

He still remembers to this day,

every now and then he gives a frown.

He tries to forget,

but it keeps coming back.

He calms himself, by looking at the clouds.

The flame still burns,

as white as the hottest star.

maybe one day,

he will join his parents in that heavenly star.

Kameren Morgan, Grade 6Howard University Middle School of Mathematics and Science

I BE

i be of DC

i be a block from eastover

i be having glitter in my hair

i be goofy all the time

i be happy all the time

i be cute a lot

i be having nothing to do

playing with my puppy i be

eating popcorn on the couch i be

Wingate all the time. i be

school i be all the fun times

i be loving my family i be

i be happy because the world makes

me and i be

Bernice Caldwell, Grade 7 Charles Hart Middle School

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mURDERERS’ ROW

To some, this might sound

like a death sentence

To be served at san Quentin.

But to die-hard baseball fans,

This has a totally different meaning.

Babe and lou headed

This formidable gang,

and they served their sentence

in the Big House

Called yankee stadium.

The year was 1927.

and the victim of these

murderers was that poor, round

Fellow with red stitching

On his white, leather exterior:

The orb called “Fastball”.

Those murderers kept knocking

“mr. Fastball” right out of

That “House that ruth Built”.

They were merciless.

Aaron Landy, Grade 8 Parkmont School

my WINTER EXPERIENCE

The days are being broken

each one getting shorter

i hesitate to go outside

Below 30 degrees it is

i look on the faces of children

Outside freezing

Their faces are ivory

Just like the snow

Coming inside to taste

The bittersweet tea

The warmth sends comfort

all through your bones

DarVel Suggs, Grade 8 Charles Hart Middle School

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LADyBUG

a ladybug

Dressed in her black and red dress

Dances under the afternoon sun

sweeping her dress to and fro

side to side

Up and down

Then the sun sets

she stops dancing

Holds her dress still

and waits for another bright afternoon

Ava Reuss, Grade 6 Horace Mann Elementary School

DARKNESS

a piercing bullet of death on my doorstep,

Creeping like a lonely worm,

stalking me looking me dead in the eye

running from a silent fear, and approaching my doorstep

Dreaming of a lifeless thought as my heart starts running,

running like the wind

Until i stop at a seeming less door

and it says check your heart

Check my heart i repeat what kind of madness is this

as i look down a dull hole piercing through my heart

silence creeps into my soul and crushes my life

as i appear back onto my doorstep a blackout occurs

no light as the piercing bullet attacks my shoulder

left with no other thought than waiting for the morrow.

Kweku Sumbry, Grade 6 Howard University Middle School of Mathematics and Science

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TODAy

Birds twittered, sharing bits of gossip.

Do i want to join?

no, let them chitchat.

Dark clouds part just a crack for the true blue to show.

Do i hope it will be a non-cloudy day?

no. it can’t.

school looms up in front of me.

am i ready for school?

yes.

Melissa Q. Wood, Grade 6 Horace Mann Elementary School

POETIC AUTOBIOGRAPHy

and even though i remember

the slurred, soothing words

of my mother while

she bathed me,

i failed to

understand the fact

that she had an

addiction to a thing

she called grey goose,

the thing that made

her feel good

when no one else

was there to

put the broken pieces together,

and when her bottle

was emptied of her

sinful concoction

i was there to

accept her for her,

and give her

the love she

had sought from

the lover that

only corrupted her,

but your biographers

never understand.

Shawntay Kent, Grade 8 Charles Hart Middle School

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UPSIDE DOWN

as he stood there upside down in his thoughts

He had a rather big frown that could scare off a town.

He was a child who rarely smiled to the world or one another.

He would stay there for a while

as everyone stood a mile away from the boy who wouldn’t

smile.

it was almost like beauty and the beast,

but where was the beauty?

He stood there not even moving a hair on his long cold arms.

all anyone could do was just sit there and stare

like a fox hunting down a hare.

it was like one big wall in front of them all

That wouldn’t let anyone in at all.

But then there it came bashing through the wall

making that wall look very small --

an ice cream truck.

as the boy pulled out a buck

He carefully snuck

One big smile

That would definitely last a while.

Christian Burke, Grade 7 Parkmont School

FROm ONE TO ANOTHER

my father’s eyes would define mine

like a silent voice yelling in your

indescribable thoughts.

my prayers are as similar as my

mom’s gift to god.

like the son of an unloving dad, praying

for his dad to return.

my thankfulness is what my dad and

mom combine.

like the sourness a lemon brings

but can return with sweetness and

lusciousness of lemonade.

Kirk Murphy, Grade 8 Charles Hart Middle School

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HAPPy NEW yEAR

i crawl into the new year

expecting a change

But not really seeing a difference

i can already see the clouds rolling in

struggle hits me like lightning

Burning my shyness and bringing with it

a rain of agony

last year was just as bad

maybe a bit calmer, but still the usual

Thunderstorm of pain

Flashes of confusion

Thoughts, questions come storming in

How can a heart beat if it’s broken?

That year i thought i went flying into it

This year i peeked in on the cold months

and went crashing down

The year just started

already i’m trapped by guilt

Burning a hole in my mind

How long shall i be trapped?

i’ll wait until it passes, just like every year

Nichell Kee, Grade 10 Ballou Senior High School

RANDOm

Three red robins, one blue jay

flying down the street

as i see them fly

i see the trees, i see deer and wolves

i walk down the road and

i see the church with a cross on top

and when i look up

i see the lions playing in the sky,

the rectangle-shaped casket

Of all my dead poems

Khalil Jones, Grade 6 Charles Hart Middle School

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FLOWER POEm ABOUT PINK

Pink is called the flower

But the flower is not pink

The pink is on me

On my dress

my wedding dress

With the lace falling down

Down on my back

Down to the floor

But when you look

in my hair

There

it is the flower called pink

The pink is on me

On my wedding dress

right there

never wear that dress

Dasha Bell, Grade 9 Parkmont School

LOST

in dusty corners

i have nice conversations

about brown foxes

who leave their glossy fur on the dining room table

and lead us from our houses

to the scarecrows

we are supposed to destroy

but i still like their button eyes

and their tanned hats

they can sit and talk

if you wait for them to climb down off their poles

but it’s been a while since

i’ve visited the forest in the kitchen

or the meadow in the bedroom

and the burglar ghosts that wander over the floors

don’t hum at daybreak anymore

only in the pitch dark

when it could just be the sounds of

the night falling asleep

Antonia Madian, Grade 11 Maret School

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I Am

i am capable

of accomplishing

all my goals,

i am

killing souls

with blank

words,

tarnishing

promiscuous dreams.

my gaze is

slowly observing

an endless soul

tearing away

from an unkempt

body.

i believe in

conquering homelands,

tranquility overflowing,

souls and spiral windows.

Monae Smith, Grade 10 Hospitality Public Charter School

UNFORGETTABLE

The sky becomes obscene,

Fading to a sudden green,

Hearts get heavy, along with their breath,

Bodies shiver, but they keep it to themselves,

visible air strives for attention,

and chills deserve an honorable mention,

Feet sing an unforgettable but all-the-same tune,

“Don’t forget to buy boots for me soon,”

Thin jackets fade, replaced by something insulated

Or is it coats that are fabricated?

something i really haven’t debated

Unlikely tunes start to sound

like “silent night” and “santa’s Coming to Town”

The endings of our summers of discontent

This winter, the snow shows new moments well spent.

Sequan Wilson, Grade 10Ballou Senior High School

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Pain hangs limp in the air, waving white

linen square upon pole, so strong, so firm.

slightly aroused, i wake to know that it

is different from most, but similar in form.

Chuckles he, knowing my surprise.

i betray naivete, as i fly on a silver sail.

nay, not happy, not i!

i wish ‘twould be apropos to love sans label,

but we seem to lose ourselves without...

i don’t think i was ever found.

sailing upon that sea,

One of confusion and mass disarray,

i know as i look into his pools of

verdant sight,

He could be just what

i need.

Colin Clarke, Grade 10Parkmont School

CONFUSION WITHIN

you’d have thought i’d seen it coming,

What’d happened and all...

i’d never seen it coming, not from a mile off.

my thoughts cloudy and nebulous, so thick, so firm,

slightly aroused, greatly embarrassed, i try to pass it off ...

But it doesn’t work.

He looks me sternly in the eye, sharp and focused,

like a picture of a stream.

He knows what i’m thinking, but if he cares he doesn’t tell. i

knew it would come out into the open, laid bare, stripped

raw.

i was afrraid, Fear, the very parasite keeping me from

bloom...

He held the knife, proverbially,

sharp and ragged against my heart,

Don’t break it, please.

it’s comical, the look in his eyes,

Oh, his eyes, green with a hint of hazel,

i find myself absorbed in them, unaware of lurking danger,

i know i will find more trouble just

waiting to be unleashed,

the Pandora’s box that is my soul...

keeping a secret that costs by day, i try to tell, but

i tell the wrong people. The shades of deceit only now

clear themselves from my midst...

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SWImmING IN THE RAIN

There are no sounds

Time does not exist

as i slowly glide through the clear water

approaching the surface

Time begins again

and with a deep breath

The sounds of life outside return

The pouring rain smells like a cold morning

as it hits the water and sounds like steam

Until i go under once more

and time and sound disappear

into the world outside

Where i left them

Gabriela Farina, Grade 12The Lab School of Washington

I Am NOT FOR SCHOOL

long lessons trying to stay

awake day dreams

forever etched in my head

thinking of the fun i had

the day before

party it was great

but my shadow looks so cool

a creation of the sun

my half-baked brain

can’t process fast enough

i’m not for school

the bell has wings when it rings

i guess i’m done.

Damon Kee, Grade 11 Ballou Senior High School

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through each other.

Their fantasies,

their temptations. Their desires,

their secrets.

The lamp dims

as a boy discovers

how naughty he can be;

leaving his Christian

values on the floor

next to tight boxer briefs

and brown leather shoes.

But from the street,

the house sits up on a hill,

tucked behind the pine trees

and the pond.

The boys make it seem so easy,

so instinctive.

The smell of sin, full pleasure,

begs for winter to hide

in the closet of spring.

Jonathan Korns, Grade 10 Georgetown Day School

THE GREEN HOUSE

On the corner,

the green house

looks down

from its perch,

at the pond

the pine trees

the big boulder

and the fork

in the road

that the house

is stuck between.

at night the house

shines with each flicker

of the street

lamp as it buzzes

and hisses

and tells the world

the days are getting

shorter.

and at the house

the only light

glows from the lantern

in the room above the garage

where young men go

to explore the world

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THE TImE IS RIGHT TO mAKE

The world is a better place for

kids also adults to live better

all the colorblind people could see

bright as day

The time is right to

care for people who are disabled

and not laugh. Toss up the hating

and become happy.

The moon speaks louder than the sun

my heart beats more than it’s

supposed to when i see someone in

stress. i always try to give an extra hand.

The time is right to

warm the frostbitten fingers

from cold snow. i plant my seeds

into the clouds above to make me a

better person.

Renita Williams, Grade 11 Ballou Senior High School

LEmON yELLOW PASSION FLOWER

lovely beyond light

yellow passionflower love

measures its own truth

Lesa Lee, Grade 10Parkmont School

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SLEEVELESS ImAGINATION

Falling of the leaves

Frostbite of words

Defrosting of an empty mind

Bitter blackened

Footprints

engraved beneath the soggy foundation

Heartburn erupting

internal hail

mixture of emotion

Temperature changes

adjusting to the hypothermia

Of a hand losing feeling

spite inside an abandoned house

The hinges behind a frozen door

lost in thought, broken emptiness

Boneless structure

Defines the atmosphere

Of a chill sneaking into the anger

Decay, fire beyond unreasonable

Caressing the invisible flakes

no longer in original form

mERRy-GO-ROUND

as i watch the merry-Go-round

i see a child in blue.

The horse he rides bobs up and down,

His mother bobbing too.

and in the air, a cheery sound,

accompanies the view.

The joy he finds in leaving ground

insults the morning dew.

as i ride the merry-Go-round

i watch the swans’ quick race.

The aged canal appears to drown

and cannot keep their pace.

i lose them while i spin around,

and long to see their grace,

But very soon they will be found

For circles move in place.

as night shuts down the carousel

The world returns to me.

There is no ringing of the bell,

and no more jubilee.

it is my time to go as well.

But leaving annecy,

i hear my footsteps on the ground;

sweet earthly rhapsody.

Duncan Taylor, Grade 11 St. Alban’s School

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THE RUBBERBAND ON my WRIST (BATTLE THE NINJAS)

i’m walking

Out of my house

Through the dead-end street of my city

it’s cold outside

But my hands and feet are burning

i walked past the parking lot

Where i got into my first fight

Past the ball court

where i perfected my 3-pointer

scraped my knee when i finally touched the rim

spud Webb has nothing on me.

Churches, fast food, and high gas prices

my neighborhood has become separated by street signs

i walk past the criminals and lowlifes

and wonder why they do what they do

and why i’m not doing the same

my words have become my weapons

To battle the ninjas of my city

This rubberband on my wrist

Helps me to never forget where i come from

Damn, ran out of film

Whoo, i’m tired of walking

i’m going home.

Jeremiah Quarles, Grade 12 Parkmont School

Pale

Chapped lips

Fingertips numb

shivering among the sudden transactions

Wind watering the naked eye

Warmth under the extra clothing

Winter freezes a summer mind

Collapsing warm thoughts, destroying crimson love

Kiana Murphy, Grade 10Friendship Public Charter School

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HIS SON

Well, i wish that my father was living right now

because i really miss him very much

but when he had passed away i was mad because

he was the only person that really cared about me

because he always had love for me and i

had love for him

and he really looked out after me

so i would not get lost and

i love him

because of the things that he did for me

and he once said that if he dies or leaves my side

he would pass down his favorite things in the world

and he gave me a shirt

and he called it the shirt of forgiveness

and he also gave me a ring that he loved

and always wore

and he called it the ring of love and happiness

and he gave those two items to me to keep if he passed

but he also said that the shirt and the ring

represent you and me

and my father said that he would hate to lose me

because i was his one and also only caring, loving son.

Marcus Barnes, Grade 11Ballou Senior High School

AUTUmN

leaves are changing

Brown and green leaves

Change

To red, orange and yellow

The air

Gets colder

leaves fall

s

W

i

F

T

l

y

To the crisp

and cracked ground

Waking up is hard

The sky is

Gray and motionless

On the earth

even at night the cold is upon us

and the leaves are changing

Olivia Patch, Grade 9 The Lab School of Washington

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TO RECIPROCATE LOVE

i sit with the two.

To all but a few,

it’s perfectly fair.

a natural pair.

a boy and a girl.

Thoughts start to unfurl.

They start to kiss.

To them, it’s bliss, a gem.

To me, you see,

it’s silent pain.

Outside,

in the rain,

For my pride,

Falls the shame of God.

The boy --

He’s cute enough to make hearts race

and sweet enough

To make one weak,

With gentle face,

With sanguine cheek,

With hair like sweetly dirt-smudged gold.

His eyes, they hold a soft, sapphiric blue.

He’s British, too,

and tall,

and ... neither help at all.

REVELATION

impulse:

Trace the clouds

as they roll across

The descending, imposing sky.

impulse:

Declare the dead

trees a symbolic accent

to the world, but walk into them.

rhythm:

stand by the

Cobalt sea as it

extends and retreats.

impulse:

Dive into temptation

and ignore the consequences

Because you know you want to...

David Heath, Grade 10Parkmont School

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He’d not introduce me,

Despite my blissful glee,

To his sweetheart, to a friend.

His reputation

He’d defend

against my inclination

To the end.

His head is tucked beneath her chin.

They’re babes without a bit of sin.

Her hands are woven in his hair.

The sight is just too much to bear.

in perfect bliss, they’re both asleep.

They don’t know the luck they keep.

But every time their kiss i hear,

and crane my neck to shed a tear,

looking up with sense of fate,

To God i’ll say,

“But it’s okay.

you’re being bad.

no, i’m not mad.

it’s fine.... i’ll wait.”

Sebastian Swain, Grade 11The Lab School of Washington

We talked of seneca and stoicism,

Freud and Jung’s disturbed electra,

evil’s nature and the Borgias over wine;

any life without the two of us together --

mornings by each other’s side

When push comes to shove,

Whenever one cried,

To reciprocate love --

would just be hopelessly malign.

i’d learn how to cook him meals,

stand by him as much as i could

With all the things for which he feels.

We would live the life

it now occurred to me we should.

He mutters, “What a fag,”

Quite devoid of any rage

as my hopes begin to sag --

lovely skin succumbed to age.

a girly thing had passed the screen --

He had no qualm with it before,

He hadn’t changed since then, i know --

He didn’t try to be so mean...

He was like a puppy dog,

Too sweet to know the pain --

Beneath the pleasant mood i feign --

Of his own bite,

His playful fight,

in a field of happy fog.

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ANATOmy AND mUSIC

it started with frogs

Brown, slippery skin, cool and

Compliant, limbs pinned to the

Dissection tray, splayed and

respectfully crucified. inside,

miracles of color --

Blue veins and pink organs, a heart

That beat its last few

notes not long ago,

Decrescendo and rallentando,

For science. an etude, yes,

But only a prelude

To the fetal pig, a galaxy

of new parts and possibilities,

an unexplored world

Through which i moved

adagio, appassionato

as i found his lungs and liver,

spleen, pancreas and gallbladder,

Delicato, i uncovered the layers

and mapped his parts

Discovering all his secrets,

a medley of similarities

To me. am i nothing

more. i, too, detest prodding.

THE TRUE DEFINITION OF A mAN

i was told the true definition of

a man was never cry, work till

you die, got to provide,

always be the rock for my family

and protect them by all means;

a poem gives me the chance to

express what i want, i see

about what a man’s to be,

but i know a true man should

be able to express his feelings mentally,

and i don’t see anything wrong

with men showing feelings physically.

a poem helps me get over break-ups

and sorrow,

also brings me hope when i

dread tomorrow.

Steven Reed, Grade 11 Ballou Senior High School

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ParkmOnT POeTry FesTival, mAy 9, 200948

ACKNOWLEDGmENTSThe Parkmont Poetry Festival extends sincere thanks to our 2008 judges:

Jennifer Pierson (Finalist Judge) has been teaching poetry at

american University since 1996, and is the Poet-in-residence

at iOna services. For years she was a Human rights advocate

for persons with disabilities in virginia. Her collection,

Taibhse: a Gaelic apparition, won the first editors’ Prize in

2000 from nimrOD inTernaTiOnal. Other awards include

those from Half Tones To Jubliee and southern review. Her

poems, reviews and stories are in numerous journals and

anthologies (including The Party Train) and on Doonesbury’s

website, “The sandbox.” Two other book-length works are

sin eaters, which explores the notion of the scapegoat in

lynchings and the community at salem during the witch

trials, and Dispatches from the (war) Hospital, on her work

with wounded soldiers from iraq and afghanistan.

Laurie Stroblas has taught creative writing to young people

at several DC schools, smithsonian museums and The

Writers’ Center. she has been awarded a mayor’s arts award

and the larry neal Writers award for Poetry, as well as several

arts education and writing grants from the DC Commission

on the arts and Humanities. a former fellow in arts education

at the national endowment for the arts, laurie founded and

directed the District lines Poetry Project that brought poems

by local young and adult writers to metro muse posters on

metrobuses, metro trains, train platforms and bus shelters

(from 1994 to 2002). you can find some of her recent poems

in the fall/winter 2008 issue of Poet lore and the anthology

stories of illness and Healing.

Reuben Jackson has worked as an archivist with the

smithsonian institution’s Duke ellington Collection. His

poems have been published in 21 anthologies, journals

Graduating to a cat brain

there was less color, more texture

each part responsible for

so much: this, the love of meat

and this, the fear of dogs and

vacuum cleaners and children

With clothes pins.

a symphony of messages

Preprogrammed, a refrain

Familiar before experience.

it’s not enough

Of an explanation.

The pieces that compose

The whole, the measures

That become a movement

adding up to a sonata or

a life, dissected and charted

and labeled, and put together

it can eventually

Walk and talk and even

Think, and better yet

sing. and i sing.

Cole Feinberg, Grade 12 National Cathedral School

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PARKmONT SCHOOL

Parkmont is a small private school serving middle school

students in grades 6-8 and upper school students in grades

9-12. an educational community that fosters individual

growth and enthusiasm for learning, Parkmont believes

that there is nothing more basic to the development of a

person than a positive sense of self-esteem. This respect

for the creative energies and contributions of young people

is the driving force behind the Poetry Festival and many

other school activities. Parkmont’s internship program puts

students in offices, shops and organizations around the city

to learn practical work skills. at school, students participate

in all-school meetings that focus on ethical and practical

problems confronting their community and engage in a

vibrant, hands-on curriculum. Parkmont helps students

to discover their talents and values. The Poetry Festival

encourages students to give voice to their dreams

and concerns.

if you would like to show your support for the Parkmont

Poetry Festival by making a tax-deductible contribution in

any amount, please send a check payable to Parkmont school

Poetry Festival to this address:

PARKMONT SCHOOL4842 16th Street, NW • Washington, DC 20011202.726.0740

such as Chelsea, Gargoyle, Callaloo and The Indiana Review, and

a volume of verse entitled fingering the keys, which won the

1992 Columbia Book award. reuben has also written music

reviews for The Washington Post, Washington City Paper, Jazz Times

and Jazziz magazines, and for national Public radio’s “all

Things Considered.” reuben’s “haiku” was set to music by the

late saxophonist steve lacy. He is a poetry instructor at The

Writer’s Center in Bethesda, maryland.

We are deeply grateful to the following donors for their

support of the 2008 Parkmont Poetry Festival:

The Jamieson Trust; and Mrs. Lois Nistico.

an additional debt of thanks goes to Ron McClain, Head

of Parkmont school and Founder of the Parkmont Poetry

Festival; Kim Schraf, Coordinator of the Parkmont Poetry

Festival; Judy Lentz, tireless supporter and 25-year Festival

Coordinator; and Sharan Strange, Festival master of

Ceremonies. sharan is the author of ash, a collection

of poems.

Finally, we wish to thank our 2008 design team:

Booklet layout and printing by Mackie Marquez-Lopez at

SEIU; poster design by Auras Design; and tee-shirt design by

Rachel Schmidt.

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9251.100hML5.1.9

parkmont poetry festivalPoems by District of Columbia Students

Grades 6-12

SPONSORED BY PARKMONT SCHOOL, MAY 9, 2009